CHAPTER V.

CLERVAL then put the following letter into my
hands.

To V. FRANKENSTEIN.

"MY DEAR COUSIN,

"I cannot describe to you the uneasiness we have all felt
concerning your health. We cannot help imagining that your
friend Clerval conceals the extent of your disorder: for it is
now several months since we have seen your hand-writing; and all
this time you have been obliged to dictate your letters to Henry.
Surely, Victor, you must have been exceedingly ill; and this
makes us all very wretched, as much so nearly as after the death
of your dear mother. My uncle was almost persuaded that you were
indeed dangerously ill, and could hardly be restrained from
undertaking a journey to Ingolstadt. Clerval always writes that
you are getting better; I eagerly hope that you will confirm this intelligence soon in
your own hand-writing; for indeed, indeed, Victor, we are all
very miserable on this account. Relieve us from this fear, and
we shall be the happiest creatures in the world. Your father's health is now so
vigorous, that he appears ten years younger since last winter.
Ernest also is so much
improved, that you would hardly know him: he is now nearly
sixteen, and has lost that sickly appearance which he had some
years ago; he is grown quite robust and active.